To the north of the mead were trees, the leaves of which were new, soft, moist and flexible, not having been stiffened or darkened by summer sun and drought, their color being yellow beside anything green, green beside anything yellow.
Far from the Madding Crowd p. 109
Before moving to North Carolina, I’m not sure I would have known this description with such certitude. With banks of budding trees on every side, the many shades of green is mind boggling here. And when surrounded by no evergreens, they all just seem shades of green. But those same greens morph when next to a stand of evergreens—ah, that’s more yellow than green. And yet let the moon go from full to full again, and all will be green, no hint of the lighter shades that existed and that almost reminded one of the symphony of colors of autumn.
Lingering Over Leaves 